Strictly Regulation
by TrueAwesomeSauce
Summary: Spock misses one staff meeting and, as a consequence, breaks the newest ship-board regulation. Uhura explains, and has an idea concerning that new regulation. Probably oughta say: This is a story about people who appreciate language, and each other...
1. Confrontation

Strictly Regulation

_Note_: In my experience, sober conscientious people are often quite playful in private. (The corresponding axiom, of course, is that quiet ones usually have something to say worth hearing. Or is it that 'still waters run deep'?) This is a story featuring people who appreciate language, just so's ya know...

If you don't want to see Uhura lighten up with the very serious male object of her affections, then you should only read the first chapter. (There are six in all.)

_Disclaimer_: Don't. Won't. Shan't. Alas.

Strictly Regulation 1

_Confrontation_

The _Enterprise_ Bridge Crew had just instituted a new policy, deemed essential for not only themselves, but all Officers, Department Heads, Command personnel, and away-team members. Commander Spock, the sole individual on the ship to enjoy regular status as a representative of each category of persons affected, was, unfortunately, working in the Astro-Gravitational Laboratory that morning, and was therefore not present at the meeting wherein this policy was discussed and summarily adopted.

He fell afoul of it almost immediately.

He had returned to his Science Station, accompanied by two earnest technicians. He was aware that the other members of the Bridge complement frequently found his professional discourses to be both tiresome and oddly entertaining. Consequently, he endeavored to keep his voice low. "It is imperative that this procedure be included in all routine surveys," he said. He paused; and in the brief silence his sensitive hearing picked up a peculiar little noise. Indeed, although he had heard such a noise before in response to his speech patterns, this one was remarkable for the abruptness with which it was terminated. His fingers kept working at the panel the technicians were eagerly studying, even as his eyes slid over toward the Communications Station.

Lieutenant Uhura was carefully directing all of her attention to her monitors, and although he waited a moment, her gaze never met his.

He turned deliberately to observe the other officers populating the Bridge.

The Captain was sitting abnormally still, not fidgeting in the Command Chair as was his wont. Perhaps he was watching Ensign Chekov's efforts at Tactical? The latter's head was bent over his console; and, while his ears appeared somewhat redder than was ordinary, his hands were busy performing a complex maneuver that, surely, he could not have just commenced.

Lieutenant Sulu was making a minor course adjustment. Though the gravity he displayed was not adequately explained by the task at hand, it was, of itself, sufficient to suggest that the person in question had not made the small sound he had heard.

Lieutenant Hannity had her back turned to him, one hand raised to her ear piece.

Lieutenant Bromley's position was such that Spock was unable to see him clearly. His body was angled toward the nearest screen, but his habitually serious face was averted.

Although he would have heard one of the others had they made that odd noise, he doubted whether they would have been able to distinguish the words which he suspected to be its cause.

Perhaps Lieutenant Kyle? No, he was hard at work.

Dismissing the situation as the by-product of yet another incomprehensible vagary of human behavior, and thus worthy of no more of his time, he resumed his conference. In four minutes, he dismissed the technicians, and when the turbolift doors closed behind them, there was a momentary pause – then, an uproar.

"That's two from Mr. Spock," came the Captain's exultant voice.

"I hear'd it, I hear'd it!" Chekov was saying excitedly.

"Me, too," Sulu announced.

"Two for me!" cried Hannity.

Bromley agreed, "And me."

Even Kyle was nodding.

Spock's eyes slid toward Uhura. This time her gaze slid back, and she smiled, if the smallest bit apologetically. "Sorry, Sweetie."

A moment later, the Captain demanded, "Time to pay up, Mr. Spock."

"Captain, am I to understand that some sort of wager was undertaken on my behalf, and without my consent, with regard to my predicted behavior?" Spock did not bother preventing his voice from growing infinitesimally colder.

"No, no, Spock; relax. This wasn't a bet. It's a fine. You broke the new rule."

He tensed. "Captain, I must protest. Although I am aware that lack of knowledge is, in matters of law, not sufficient justification to hold one unaccountable for one's past actions, it nevertheless seems unreasonable - even for you - to expect me to submit myself for punishment for an infraction that I was not only unaware that I was committing, but of whose nature I continue to remain in ignorance."

There was an extended hush, broken only by the noises of the instruments.

Nyota had moved to stand by his side. He could hear that her breathing was slightly more rapid than normal: Apparently, she was angry.

The Captain seemed to notice: "Okay, okay, this time was a freebie. But next time, Spock, you're gonna pay."

His mouth firmly closed, the Vulcan turned on his heel and headed for the turbolift.


	2. Explanation

Strictly Regulation 2

_Explanation_

At 19:43 that evening, Uhura curled up next to Spock where he sat reading on the couch in his quarters. She pulled his arm around her shoulders and relaxed into his side. He had noted before that she found the heat of his body soothing. Soon she made a small contented sound.

He pulled her closer and settled his arm around her more comfortably. He did not look up from his text.

Though he had intended to read further, when he had completed the current document, he set his work aside. He wound his other arm around her body and drew her onto his lap. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. Closing his eyes, he rested his cheek against her hair. He breathed in her scent, and let his thoughts drift.

They stayed like that for an amount of time that he preferred not to calculate. Then Nyota murmured, "Routine."

"I beg your pardon?"

"'Routine.'" She started to shift position; but before she could move her head, he gently closed his arms around her, and her motion ceased. "Today, on the Bridge: The word was 'routine.'"

"Indeed. Is it safe to presume that there is some logical reason why the use of this word should now simultaneously garner its employer censure and deprive him of funds?"

"Not really."

She started to shift again, most likely to make eye contact. He raised his head and loosened his hold until she could turn to face him. Without leaving his lap, she rearranged herself so she could look into his eyes. He linked his hands behind her so that she would not slip backward off of his knees.

She thought for five seconds, then said, "Starfleet sent us a new set of regulations."

"Yes, I know: You sent me the document this morning. I reviewed it, and forwarded it to the Captain to disseminate at the Command briefing."

"Right. Of course you did. Sorry. Well, anyway, we were all joking about it, " She stilled his protest with a touch, "and someone said that, instead of wasting time inventing new regulations for us to follow, maybe the powers-that-be could figure out some way to make it so that 'routine negotiations' actually _were_."

Spock said nothing.

"Were routine, I mean."

"Yes, Nyota, I understood."

She smiled. "So, then somebody else said, 'What about 'routine surveys'? They never are.'"

She waited. When his eyebrow lifted, she asked, "Are they?"

"No. Not really."

"Right. So then the Captain said, 'Yeah, and don't even get me started on 'routine landing parties' on 'routine missions'!'"

Spock was silent.

"He was very funny."

"I am sure he was." And to make her laugh, he allowed his voice a hint of dryness.

She did laugh, and leaned forward to kiss him. "Pretty soon we decided maybe it's some kind of jinx. Maybe just calling something 'routine' is all it takes…" She was quiet for a few moments, staring at nothing, then observed, her tone subdued, "It is strange, though, isn't it, how the easy ones, the ones that really _should_ be routine, always seem to be the ones that go horribly wrong?"

He nodded once. She looked into his eyes, and suddenly seemed to realize what she was saying, and to whom she was saying it…

After several wide-eyed seconds, she deliberately shook off her seriousness, and said impishly, "Somebody said we should call it the Starfleet Curse. The Captain wouldn't let us name it after the _Enterprise_…"

"I should say not," Spock murmured: A reply which earned him another kiss.

Smiling widely, she continued her story: "Well, the rest of the conversation was pretty hilarious – you should have been there, you'd have loved it -" this time she kissed the eyebrow as it went up, "and in the end we decided that we would institute a regulation of our own."

"I see."

"Of course you do, Sweetie, you're very smart." Nyota kissed his nose. "Now pay attention: This is important. The rule applies to all Bridge crew, Department Heads, Officers, Command personnel, and anybody currently assigned to a landing party. Every time one of these people uses the word 'routine' he has to pay every single person who hears him (assuming they are also subject to the Rule) one credit. And, the offender also has to pay one credit to every person who goes on the very next landing party."

For some reason, the prospect seemed to delight her.

"Oh, and Spock, don't forget this part: If the word is said by anybody who is actually on the Bridge, in the Transporter Room, or on the Hanger Deck at the time, he has to pay double. Triple if he's actually off the ship…"

Yes, she was unmistakably delighted.


	3. Collaboration

Strictly Regulation 3

_Collaboration_

He tightened his arms around her, and she shifted until her form nestled against his own once more. She snuggled in tight, with her head on his shoulder. Again he allowed his cheek to rest upon her hair. He closed his eyes…

A thought struck him. "Nyota. I must ask you something."

"Mm-hmm?" He suspected that she had not even opened her eyes.

"This word: Does the Rule only apply when it is used in its adjectival form? Used as a noun, it would not appear to fulfill the conditions concomitant with the Curse."

When she answered, he could tell she was smiling. "Oh, I think you may safely say it is only forbidden when used as an adjective."

Another thought: "Nyota. Has Chief Engineer Scott been informed of this new regulation?"

"He wasn't at the meeting this morning, so I guess not. Why?"

"The word is frequently used in the Engineering Department, and by Ship Operations, particularly in conjunction with the word 'maintenance.'"

"Oh, yeah, I see what you mean. That's tricky. What time is it, Spock?"

"21:14."

"You'd better find a way to tell the Captain, tomorrow, without using the word, that at 9:14 this evening the phrase 'routine maintenance' was declared exempt from the Rule."

"I shall do so. As I do not believe that there have ever been instances of the Curse occurring in these fields, Captain Kirk should offer little argument."

"Great." Her voice was slightly muffled as she buried her face in his chest. Was she laughing? A moment later she turned her head and asked, "Spock, do you think I could borrow a beaker from the Chem Lab for a while?"

"Certainly."

"Thanks."

She was silent again, this time for 64 seconds. Her voice, when it came, was soft. "Spock, do you know I love you?"

"Yes. Of course I do."

"I'm glad."

12 seconds: "Spock, do you know that you are the single most disciplined person I know?"

"Nyota. I do not know how to respond to your question."

"Spock, you'd better make it a big beaker."


	4. Clarification

Strictly Regulation 4

_Clarification_

Now he was apprehensive. "Nyota, are you well? While I do appreciate the uniqueness of this conversation, I am nevertheless becoming convinced that you have something specific in mind - concerning me - about which I have not yet been made aware."

She twined her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest again. "I am planning on making a killing." He tensed and she sat up, laughing out loud. "No, Spock, no! It's an old expression. It means 'making a lot of money.'"

He averted his face. It did not please him when she mocked him.

She pulled away a little and, placing one palm alongside his jaw, turned so he could read her countenance. "Look," she said, seriously, "I don't mean to tease you."

She gazed directly into his eyes. "I can't possibly explain why the whole Rule thing is so funny. I just can't. It's a laugh-at-the-stuff-that-terrifies-us type of thing: Completely illogical and foolish, but it makes us all feel better. You are going to have to trust me when I say that, to the rest of us, it's hilarious; and just go with it, okay?"

He nodded once.

She scooted toward him and wrapped her arms around his torso. She pressed herself against his chest.

"Good. You know I got upset with Jim on the Bridge?"

Yes, he knew. He had heard her exhalations. He nodded.

"I thought he was trying to make you look foolish and take advantage of you - Not because he's mean, but because at the time he thought it would be funny."

Spock thought about that. He had no reply.

"I knew that, to you, it was like an attack: He was invading your privacy and insulting your sense of justice. Thing is, he wasn't going to see it from your point of view - simply because he didn't want to."

It was not a question. Spock was not required to speak.

"I love Jim, but we both know that that man doesn't want to do anything that isn't fun."

This was a just assessment. Fortunately, the Captain was, on occasion, able to temporarily overcome this natural predilection in order to accomplish necessary but unpleasant duties in a satisfactory manner.

He nodded.

Whilst he was contemplating, she had tightened her arms around him. He returned the gesture gently, and lowered his cheek once more to rest on her head.

"So, when you left, I was angry. I wanted to make him pay in a way that would make him feel foolish - but still be funny."

He waited.

She sighed softly. "That 'even for you' was _masterful_," She breathed, her quiet voice holding a hint of wonder.

He did not choose to tell her that he had considered omitting those words from his peroration, but had decided, instead, to indulge himself.

"So I got to thinking…"

Again, he waited.

"Do you want to know what I came up with?"

Upon short reflection, he nodded. He could feel her hair, smooth against his skin.

Now the smile was plainly evident in her voice. "The best payback would have to take advantage of the differences in your personalities. Really, of your own, most excellent, qualities…"

"Nyota, - " She moved her head a little so that her hair caressed him. He fell silent.


	5. Elucidation

Strictly Regulation 5

_Elucidation_

"Spock, who, on this ship, has the most sensitive hearing?"

The answer was straightforward. "I do, Nyota."

"Hmmm. You could probably hear any words said by anyone on the Bridge..."

Her tone suggested that she did not expect an answer, and he was not sure he should admit this, but he was receiving the impression that she wished to hear him say it: "Easily." He felt compelled to add, "However, it would be dishonorable to intentionally eavesdrop on personal or privileged conversations."

"Naturally. No one would expect you to do that." She added, in an apparent _non sequiter_, "I am glad you know I love you."

He turned his head to press his lips to the shining hair.

"Do you really have an eidetic memory?"

"Yes."

Her tiny movement created distance between them: Apparently this admission made her vaguely anxious.

"But I believe that, in actuality, this is not the question you wished to ask. Perhaps you were wondering whether I have perfect recall?"

"I guess."

"If, in a meditative state, I review new information, impressions and/or observations, and/or my own actions or those of another – including any conversations to which I have either contributed or been proximate – then I can, at any point in the future, with near-perfect reliability, recount them in complete and unbiased detail."

She had frozen.

"However, Nyota, I must point out that I very rarely exercise this option."

She did not respond, and his next words came almost reluctantly, "I find such detailed memories both unnecessary and undesirable. Perhaps you would say 'unkind.'"

Her tension eased. She tilted her head up to solemnly kiss him twice, slowly, on the chin.

She rearranged herself against his chest and leaned into him a little harder. Then, "Who receives and reviews every department report - every report on negotiations - every status, mission, survey, and landing party report; and conducts interviews based on the same?"

"I do." He was beginning to see her point.

"Who is the one person who attends every Command session, Bridge crew briefing, Officer meeting, and Departmental and Inter-Departmental conference on this vessel?"

This was obvious. "I am, Nyota, with very rare exceptions. Captain Kirk attends Command and Officer Briefings, and we both chair sessions with Bridge personnel. However, I personally oversee the various Departments and am in charge of Inter-Departmental affairs: I render an accounting of these operations to the Captain." He thought she might be laughing. His eyes narrowed slightly as the next words were drawn from him, as though against his will. "You are, of course, aware of this, as you have commented several times upon the disparity of the fact that - while you need not attend these conferences yourself - given that they are held in the mornings, before I must report to the Bridge, my departure for them results in the inadvertent consequence that you are deprived of the extra sleep (or other enjoyment) you might otherwise receive from my continued presence."

"It's not fair." She was unapologetic. "When you get up, my feet get cold."

"Yes, that is true."

She snorted, and was quiet for 3 full seconds.

"And, Babe, you're really very cuddly in the morning."

He had no response.

Soon, she tightened her arms around him once again, in a quick squeeze. "Who on this ship has the greatest sense of accountability regarding the regulations and responsibilities - both stated and implied - imposed by the Federation, Starfleet, Captain Kirk, the cultures of his unique divided heritage, and his own most estimable conscience?"

She was teasing him. Yet, again, the answer was obvious. He did not sigh. "I do."

"And when you're feeling stuffy, you point out others' infractions." For the second time she stilled his protest with a touch. "No, Spock, it's a good thing. Really. It's going to come in handy."

He did not dare speak.


	6. Anticipation

Strictly Regulation 6

_Anticipation_

"Spock. Statistically speaking, who is the single officer, on any Starship, who goes on the most away missions?" Uhura's inflection was now businesslike.

"The First Officer."

"And, apart from the First Officer, the second most likely to be selected?"

"The Chief Science Officer." He had long since followed her argument to its logical conclusion, but he kept his voice very grave, certain that this would bring her the greatest amusement. "The duties are distinct, being primarily diplomatic or strategic in the first case; and, obviously, scientific, in the second. It is, admittedly, unusual to have a Science Officer as the second-in-command of a Constitution Class Starship."

"I know, Sweetie. You're special."

Now her voice mirrored his in its gravity: "Let us proceed, Commander, shall we?"

"Of course, Lieutenant."

"On the _Enterprise_, who spends the most time on the Bridge?"

"I do, Nyota." Anticipating her, he gave a comprehensive reply, allowing his voice to lighten a little, "In addition, I generally report earliest to the Transporter Room, or walk there in the Captain's company. When a shuttle is to be utilized, I personally ascertain that preparations have been appropriately completed for the mission at hand." He paused, then added patiently, "Also, I am the one who most closely directs and monitors landing party personnel."

She was laughing again: He could feel her shoulders shaking where they rested against his body. "Nyota, I must point out that I do, in fact, have a conference tomorrow morning with the Senior Scientists of the Xenobiology and Chemistry Sections. I will be rising earlier than you prefer. If you wish to function at your normal efficiency, we should retire soon."

"Spock, who is the single most disciplined person I know?"

"I am." He clarified his assertion: "You have told me so."

"Right. And I happen know from personal experience that no one – _no one_ – can get you to say something you really don't want to say."

He decided he did not want to consider this statement too carefully. "I grant you that. Conditionally."

She did not comment.

He continued: "You may rest assured, Nyota, that 'the word' shall not pass my lips."

She shifted until she was able to place a firm kiss on the body parts he had mentioned.

She studied his face for 7.3 seconds. She raised one hand and swept her thumb along the line of his eyebrow. "'Perfect recall,' huh?"

"Yes, Nyota." Her fingers brushed along his cheek, before dropping back to her lap.

"And this entire conversation?"

"Word for word."

"Hmm." She settled back on his knees. She traced the braid on his sleeve, and idly ran her fingers across his hand, before covering it with her own.

She looked at the two for a moment, then lifted her eyes to his.

She was smiling. "Will you bring the beaker back with you after your conference tomorrow? The biggest one you have?"

"If you wish it."

He was determined not to ask.

She waited.

He waited.

She grinned and stood up. "I need to make a label. I think it should say 'R & R'. In case you're curious, that's one 'R' for my R-word winnings, and one 'R' for yours." She bent to deliver a single kiss to the tip of his right ear. Before she straightened, he heard her suggest, in a tone enticing and low, "You can buy me something pretty when we next have shore leave."

Upright, she headed toward the door of the hygiene chamber. Every line of her body radiated her satisfaction.

Demonstrating her superlative sense of timing, she paused at the door and threw her last words at him before disappearing from view. "We are _so_ going to make a killing."

The door had closed behind her. He permitted himself the tiniest of smiles.


End file.
